King of Hearts
by Woe Kitten
Summary: Sam and Dean travel to a small town where people are disappearing and meet up with a local girl to fight a malicious, organ-seeking beast. First of a series.
1. Chapter 1

Sam stirred beneath the covers and turned to glance at his sleeping brother. Dean had refused to talk to him for several days now, and the silence was agonizing. He was always so used to Dean running off his smart assed mouth for hours on end without shutting up. Now, Dean wouldn't say three words to him. It was hurting.

He was still having those reoccurring dreams about Jessica. He'd fall asleep, only to have the vivid and gory images run through his mind like a freight train. Her bloodied, white blouse and angelic face bursting into blue flame. Her screams. Her high, agonizingly painful screams. They played tricks on his weak, deteriorating mind. He was slowly going mad. Sam's eyes became weak and heavy, attempting to sag and relieve the headache throbbing in his forehead. But he didn't want to blink. Not just yet. He wanted to leave them open. Soak in the dark. Reason being, not even HE knew.

Dean stirred again, this time, releasing a low groan and burying his face in his pillow. It was 5:00; or so the alarm clock said. This out-of-date hotel had a tendency to forget to change their clocks back every once in awhile. It could be 6:00 for all he knew. The time didn't matter. He wanted to get up and go. Go find more clues as to what killed Jess. As to where his father was. The answer to life. By god, he had been traveling with Dean for over 1 month now. He was getting anxious. Nothing. They had _still _found nothing. He hadn't wanted to wake up Dean, but they needed to get a move on pinpointing their next case. He struggled out of bed and sauntered over to Dean's bed.

"Dean." Sam whispered, nudging his brother ever so slightly. "Dean." He didn't stir. "Goddam it, Dean!" He cried out, only to receive a sharp, stinging pain on his left cheek as Dean swatted him.

"What the-" Dean rubbed at the sleep below his eyes and narrowed them at Sam. He hated his brother. The week before, they had gotten in the biggest fight of their trip, both ending up with a deflated ego and a different attitude towards each other. They consisted of the same old, same old. Complaining about how Dean had to stay home and watch after dad, and how pretty-lil-smart-boy got to go off to college and party till he was practically purple.

"Dude, you've slept in till 7:00 for every day since we've been out. You think it would hurt you to get started a little earlier this morning?" Dean just rolled his eyes. He rolled out of bed, slipped on his white tank and ran his fingers through his dishelved hair and slipped on his leans over his dark green boxers. The fact was, he hadn't been sleeping. Something had been bothering him. Tugging at the strings of his mind until it hurt like Hell. He had such a huge headache at the moment, and it showed no sign of leaving.

"Jesus Christ." He muttered, "How long have you been up?"

"So you're talking to me now."

"I figured the silent treatment wasn't good enough. I'll just kick your sorry ass later, and then we'll be even." Dean struggled into his leather bomber jacket, ushering one of his killer smiles and winking. "Gotta watch out for little Sammy, you know." He straightened his collar. "Where we headed, the local library?"

"Well, dad gave us the coordinates, the rest is up to us."

Sam and Dean maneuvered into the Charger, Dean shoving the keys into the ignition and starting it. The engine gurgled, spit and then began to run smoothly. They pulled out of the nearly empty motel parking lot and onto Highway 60. They drove in silence along the way, the light gone from both their crystalline eyes. Soon, Sam spoke up.

"Hey, Dean..." He stuttered. "I'm really sorry about-"

"Oh, Sammy. If you're going to start the day off by attempting to sucker up to your big brother, forget it." He bit his bottom lip and made a right turn on Barnes Ave., his stiff, leather bomber wrinkling and pucker on his firm arm muscles. He again fussed with his hair, pulling his elongated bangs over his sweating forehead.

"Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "Just- Just not feeling quite up to par, kid." Dean swerved passed a parked vehicle on the arm of the road, and cocked his head to one side, letting out a deep, sorrowful sigh. The library approached on the right, and Dean turned into the parking lot. The library looked extremely old, almost ancient. The stones were crumbling and the siding was peeling away from the frame. Vines climbed its aging walls, twisting and curling around the corners like a set of giant hands. Dean killed the engines, grabbed the keys in his pocket and fisted them tightly. They entered the building, greeted by an old lady at the front desk.

"May I help you two young gentleman?" She asked, removing her gawky, bottle coke cap glasses and smiling sweetly. Dean smiled sweetly and nodded.

"Yeah. Um, we need access to your internet service for a little project we're working on. The- the recent killings in Bakersville?"

"I can get you the news articles from the last three weeks. Would that be suitable?" Dean nodded, curling his lower lip under.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's great." The old lady hobbled out from behind the desk, revealing the naked stump where he leg used to be. After she was out of site, Sam nudged Dean.

"Hey, you know it's not nice to stare, Dean." He joked. "What do you think happened? Do you think she might've lost it as a result from what's killing as these people?" Dean shrugged.

"I dunno. But that's what we're here to do, isn't it, Sammy?" Dean winked and followed the old, hobbling woman out of the lobby and into a neatly placed computer lab full on Dell hardware. The room was practically empty, except for a scrawny girl in all black with her headphones on in the far corner. She looked up at the two strangers and smiled, tapping her fountain pen on her lower lip, than returning to her work, diligently scribbling answers. The old woman opened her mouth to talk,

"Each of these computes have the information of the Bakersville killings. Keep in mind that these are police records. Don't screw with any-"

"I think we've got it handled, thanks." Dean interrupted, scratching the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and sighing. The old woman nodded and limped out of the room, shifting her weight onto the cane she carried with her. Sam sat down in a plastic chair at a computer, flicked the power switch and begin searching the database for the most recent Bakersville killings articles. Dean, in the meantime, found himself quite preoccupied.

"Excuse me, Miss." Dean sat backwards on the plastic chair next to the young woman in the corner, mounting the back of the chair with his muscled legs and propping his leather-clad arms on the seat back, smiling. She removed her gawky headphones and turned to look at him, her glinting bright Green eyes coming to meet his. She smiled, her pale, yet rosy lips forming a petite smile. A golden beaded chain hung limply around her fragile neck, a gold pendant that Dean didn't quite recognize dangling loosely from it's clasp.

"May I be of any assistance?" She jokingly replied. Her hair framed her pretty, yet drawn out face in a halo like piece. Dean found himself almost speechless.

"Um, yeah... I was wondering if you knew anything about the recent murders happening around town?" The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something about her made him feel uncomfortable, and if you knew Dean, you knew that this happened quite rarely around females he found himself attracted to.

"Oh. Well, I've read over the autopsy reports just last week for a project. Would you be interested if I showed you and college geek boy over there were I found the info? It's actually quite helpful." Dean shook his head yes, his ego slightly regaining it's power.

"That would help immensely, thanks." The girls skinny digits scrawled over the black heys on the board as she typed in the URL. The autopsy reports popped up in a great big black window and the scanned over the screen with her fingertip.

"Most of the helpful info is in this first paragraph." Sam scrolled through the information, one eyebrow raised and his lips flinching slightly as he mouthed the words to himself. After he was finished, he turned to Dean.

"This sounds like..." He looked up at the girl and smile sheepishly. "This sounds like something we deal with. Listen to this." He scrawled over the screen. "Each of the murdered peoples were found Thursday afternoon on August 18th at Miller's park, all the bodies in tact, until autopsies proved that each body was missing an organ; a heart. More information will be released in the near future when the town consult see fit." Both Dean and Sam sighed in unison. What kind of grim and ghastly thing were they to fight face to face this time?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam sat in silence in the car, listening to Metallica, blaring from the speakers of the Impala. Something tugged at Dean's head; almost like a migraine headache, only less painful and more thought-induced. He rubbed his throbbing forehead and tried to alleviate the pain, but it wouldn't go away. He could feel his pulse in his temples like the beating of a drum. His eyesight slowly got worse.

"Okay Sammy boy. Where to now?"

"Cop shop." Sam pointed at the pad of paper in his folded lap and stuck the pen neatly between his lips and chewed on the end. "Gotta check the police records." Dean sighed. "Sammy, you know how much I hate the fuzz." Dean turned onto Third Ave, spinning the steering wheel a full 360 degrees. He pulled in front of the local police department, put the car in park, and shuffled through the glove compartment, fishing out two police badges. He grinned and stepped out of the car.

They stepped up to the front desk to a fat, sleeping cop reclining on a folding chair with a box of donuts propped into his lap. Dean cleared his throat, startling the fat cop, the donuts bouncing lazily on the floor.

"Hi, I'm officer James, this is officer Roy. We're from the Grazerville police department. We've been sent this way to check out the police records for the recent murders." The fat cop wiped the saliva off his top lip and sat up.

"Do you two have I.D.?" Dean flashed his badge, followed by the slightly reluctant Sam. The cop nodded and stood up, cracking open the swinging door to allow Sam and Dean behind the desk. They followed the fat man back to records and were left alone in silence to rifle through the files. They found the dated documents and read up on the autopsy reports and the police reports. They all stated the same thing, two victims, each body found on the side of the road on highway H, each with their hearts missing. The victims names were given too; 23 year old Danny Wellman and 35 year old Roger Hamilton.

"This is just sick." Sam tossed the autopsy pictures aside and turned to face Dean.

"What do you think we're dealing with here? I mean, this doesn't sound like anything I've heard of."

"Don't quite jump to conclusions, Sam. We haven't been to the crime scene as of yet. There could be sulfur residue, some kind of orb..."

"No, Dean... I sense it. This isn't regular."

"Since when is what we do regular?" Dean chuckled.

"You know what I mean, Dean. This isn't a spirit. I can feel it. This is something much more dangerous and evil."

"Okay, so... what do we do?"

"Well, I guess first we look at this towns history and see if that has anything to do with it. Stop by the crime scene and pick up some clues... that's all we can do so far until we find out a little more." Sam sighed and sat up.

"There just has to be something more."

"What are the possibilities? I mean, a demon, a shape shifter, a-"

"No, Dean. Something bigger. Much." The two shuffled back passed the cop again, said their goodbyes, and climbed back into the huffing car. They pulled back onto the long, deserted highway and towards the crime scene.

A long stretch of barren, dead weeds scattered haphazardly set their scene. Right off an arm of Highway H, Do Not Cross Crime Scene tape flashed brightly in the hot heat of the sun. Dean propped a pair of shades delicately on his face and hustled out of the car, glock in place, badge at hand. Sam follow reluctantly.

"Hey! You don't have authorization to be h-" Sam flashed a badge in the amateur cops face and they both slipped under the tape and stepped into the quarantine. Two thin, gaunt cops stood with their hands on their hips and their heads hung low, looking at what appeared to be the third body. It was disgustedly gnarled, the victim's hair matted to his sweaty forehead as flies swarmed at it's empty, rotted eyes and dry, cracked lips.

It was a male, about 35, dark brown hair, high cheekbones, green eyes and thin, small lips. The breast pocket of his shirt was ripped, a catacomb left tunneling through it and the deformed body. Several strange, gigantic animal tracks tinted with human blood led away from the body. They had a resemblance to that of a humongous canine. Sam heaved like he was about to throw up. Dean cocked his head to one side and smelled the air. No sulfuric smell.

"What do you think, S- Officer Roy?"

"I think its sick, that's what. Most definitely not a demon or spirit. No sulfur smell. The wound-" He gagged again.

"It's a god." Sam went silent. "We have to find the source of it. It's being hosted by someone. Or something at the least." Dean stated. The two stepped out of the quarantine and returned back to the confines of the small charger. Dean reclined on the leather seat and sighed, running his fingers over the laces of the charger's steering wheel.

"What God do we know that's associated with a human heart?" Sam shook his head.

"I dunno, but's lets get back to the library and start researching."


	3. Chapter 3

"Family name: Morlock. In each victim's family, there's a connection to the Morlock family. So I'm guessing, that the god is attached to one of the family members?" Sam questioned.

"I'm not sure, but I think I found our god." Dean said, throwing down a thick, hard cover book and turning a dusty, peeling page to reveal an old picture of a thin, dog-like mammal standing on its back haunches. The caption below the picture read, "Khenty-Imentiu".

"Egyptian God Anubis. Represented as a black jackal that presided over the weighing of the hearts of the deceased. Also... god of the dead before he was demoted to supporting role as god of several funeral cults."

"Why would Anubis be killing off these people though? I mean, none of them have anything to do with him, and normally he's the protector of the dead souls."

"Unless Anubis is trying to fill a quota of some sort to be promoted BACK to the god of the dead." Dean shifted in his seat and slammed the book shut.

"I suppose that would explain the animal tracks as well." Said Sam, sighing and shaking his head. "We've got to contact the Morlock family before another killing takes place."

After a 30 minute drive to the outskirts of Bakersville, Dean and Sam pulled into the driveway of a two-story duplex. Dean rummaged through the glove compartment once again to extract two Medical Examiner I.D.'s. They knocked on the front door. The young woman at the library opened the door, teary eyed and pale. Dean cocked his head to one side and blushed. Her face lit up and she managed a sheepish smile.

"Hey guys. Stalk much?" Dean swallowed, his Adam's apple quivering nervously, and grinned.

"No, um... actually we're here on behalf of your relatives. Are you the only one home?" He peered behind her, searching for another able body in the household. She shook her head no.

"My little brothers asleep up in the nursery, but other than that, it's all me."

"Mind if we come in?" Questioned Sam. She opened the door a bit more to let the two slender brothers walk past and into the hallway of their nicely accommodated duplex. The interior was a nice shade of sage, and the furniture corresponded to the color pattern. Nothing was askew even the slightest; everything was practically perfect. Dean slunk into the cozy, leather arm chair and rest his head on splayed fingers. He looked sheepishly at the girl, his eyes fixed on her porcelain face and her many other beautiful features. She sighed.

"Well, we were never properly introduced. I'm Blair." She offered a slender, petite hand to Sam, who heartily shook it then withdrew. Dean nodded as she passed, his eyes locking with her astonishingly bright green ones. She sat at the open spot next to him, her arm lightly brushing against his.

"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam."

"Nice to meet the both of you." She smiled through the thin, wispy tears trickling down her face. "I'm so sorry." She laughed, wiping away the tears in the corner of her eyes. "I tend to get a bit over emotional. Anyways, what are you two here for?"

"Oh, Yea, that." Dean snapped out of his daze and rubbed at his eyes. "Well, we wanted to talk to you about your uncle and cousin. We were good friends with the both of them." He lied.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, did either have any... mysterious things about them? You know, hiding things from the family, that sort of thing..." She shook her head no, the pendant around her neck swaying side to side on her chest as she dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex.

"No." She swallowed. "Not that I know of. They were both good people, they lived right in this house with us until they... passed away."

"What did the cops and M.E.'s say killed him?" She laughed an extremely nervous laugh.

"They said it was a coyote mauling. I beg to differ."

"What do you think it was?" Sam questioned, running his fingers through his curly, dark locks.

"That's just it; I don't know. I know it wasn't a coyote, the tracks were fucking HUGE." Dean nodded in acknowledgment pressing his thin lips together and biting at the drying skin. He was nervous and had no way of hiding it.

"What's wrong, Dean?' Sam asked, looking in dire concern at his older brother. His jowls tightened and he made a sobbing noise.

"Just... just getting a bit emotional, that's all." He covered his face in the palm of his hand as he hid a coy smile. He hated getting nervous around the opposite sex. It never happened this severe before.

"Well, I'd offer you the hotel number to call us at if you need anything," Sam started, "but we don't have a place to stay, so I'll just give you Dean's number."

"Well, actually..." She stood up and cleared her throat. "My parents aren't in town tonight, and since you two are family friends, I can offer the spare bedroom in the basement."

"That be great, thanks." Sam said in astonishment. She smiled a toothy grin and stood, balancing her weight on the coffee table at her side.

"I'll show you to the basement. We have spare blankets in the closet down there." The two were lead to a small, downstairs room, tidy, completely clean and housing two made beds. Sam had run up to the car to get the case and rock salt as Blair made coffee for the three of them. Dean reclined on the bed at the left and looked longingly up at the ceiling, following the fine, hairlike crack lining the crease. It twisted and turned and writhed, like a dying animal before his eyes.

"Dean?" Blair had startled him. He fell face first to the carpeted floor in surprise.

"I- I... Yeah, Blair?" He stuttered.

"You okay?" She rose an eyebrow and chuckled.

"I'm fine." Dean replied. She placed a cup of hot coffee on the bed stand and sat on the edge of the mattress next to a blushing Dean.

"I'm really glad you two came." She muttered. "It's been Hell in this household since their deaths. My little brother has crying fits every night, my father and mother sit up and yell at each other; It's a total mess. I just want it to stop." Dean grinned.

"That's what we're here for." He leaned in close in an attempt to kiss her tender lips, but Sam burst haphazardly into the room and interrupted.

"Thanks for letting us stay, Blair. We really appreciate it." She tucked her glossy black hair behind her ears.

"Yes thanks." Dean furrowed his eyebrows at his younger brother. Blair sighed.

"Well, I really should let you two get some sleep." She got off the end of the bed, leaving a very disappointed Dean. "Goodnight you two." She walked gracefully from the room with one last glance back at Dean.


	4. Chapter 4

_Steven burst through the heavy under brush, in quick pursuit by a towering, hairy, growling form with long, lanky legs and protruding, stained teeth. He let out a cry of pain as thorns dug into his ankles, leaving bleeding rivets in his sweaty skin. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the creature let out a billow, a combination of a howl and a form of maniacal laughter. The sweat stung at his eyes as it ran in dribbles from his temples. He lost his balance, tripping on more under brush and tumbled to the ground, dirt kicking up in his scared face. He tried to clamber to his feet, crawling like a hurt animal for the few feet he could muster. Monstrous claws dug into his bruised ankles and he let out a high pitched scream as gigantic teeth suck depp into his chest cavity. The screaming came to a sudden halt as his throat was severed and his heart was extracted from his chest cavity._

"Shit." Dean muttered, sitting up on the floor, pulling the blankets close to his naked torso. His eyes sagged heavily above the dark bags below his eyes and he attempted to sit up, but his eyesight swam in and out of focus.

"You okay, Dean?"

"Didn't get much sleep. Next time, YOU get the floor, I get the comfy cozy mattress, you lucky so-of-a-bitch. " He grinned and stood up, stretching his achy muscles by extending his arms over his head. He struggled out of his boxers and changed into a new set of clothes, pulling on faded jeans, a white tee and his leather jacket; the normal consistency of his everyday ensemble. The two quickly packed up there belongings and struggled them upstairs and into the kitchen, where Blair was already preparing breakfast for the boys.

"Good morning."

"Good morning yourself." Dean retorted, a huge, cheesy smile spreading across his exhausted features.

"Where are you two headed after you eat?" She asked. Dean shrugged.

"Actually, we have no bloody idea, but we'll think of something. Still trying to... figure out your uncle and cousin's case." Blair set down two plates with cheese omelets on the table.

"Eat up before you leave. Made it special." The two sat down and ate the hearty breakfast, quickly shoveling food into there hungry stomachs. Dean stretched after eating his fill and stood up. Sam quickly finished off the remaining egg on his plate and did the same.

"Well, we're off then, I guess." The two made there way out the door in pursuit by Blair, who stood in the door frame to say her goodbye.

"What you're doing... I really appreciate it. None of the cops or M.E.'s have given us actual feed back since the incident. Thanks."

"No problem. Bye." Dean turned to leave, only to have his wrist grasped by Blair and his lips swallowed in a kiss. He closed his eyes and held her close, then pulled away, blushing.

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean sauntered over to the car with a wave and a large Cheshire cat grin, got in, started the car and pulled out of the dusty driveway.

"What was that?"

"Sammy, gotta get my kicks while I'm still young. Besides, she kissed _me_, Not the other way around."

"Yeah, but you enjoyed it." Dean got wide eyed.

"Dude, is she not fine? Aren't you even the least bit jealous that I was the one that got the kiss?"

"Jealous?" He looked at his brother sarcastically. Dean stared back.

"Okay. Yeah. I'm a bit jealous. Now just drive. Where exactly are we going, anyhow?"

"Am I supposed to have an idea? You're the genius here, not me."

"Maybe we should go back to the library and ask that old woman about her leg... and what she saw."

"That works." They arrived at the library a few moments later, pushing there way through the small kids hanging out in the lobby. Approaching the front desk, Sam asked the younger gentleman for the old book keeper woman, and he went off to find her. He came back, with the little old lady hobbling behind in hot pursuit.

"May I help you two gentleman?"

"Is there a place we can talk?" She eyes Dean up.

"Why don't you step into my office." Sam and Dean followed her into a small back room, where she closed the door behind them and sat down behind her desk, the glasses perching on her nose slightly losing there balance. She adjusted them and stared. Dean cleared his throat and nervously licked his upper lip.

"Mam, did you just lose your leg recently? Like within the last... three weeks?" The old woman scowled.

"So you're here to taunt an old lady like me about my disabilities, are you sonny?"

"No, um... that's not what he means. Sorry, he can be a little straight forward at times. We're investigating the murders of Jonathan and Riley Morlock, and we were simply wondering if you had any idea what happened? What or who they were murdered by?" The old woman sighed and looked away.

"I lost my leg just two weeks ago. The doctors did a good job of stitching me back up. Something... someone, whatever it was, attacked me in the woods as I was walking home from church that Sunday. It nearly took both of my lower extremities, but I got away... with this simple scar on the other leg." She hiked up her long skirt a bit to reveal a jagged, vicious scar making it's way up her thin, bony leg. Sam swallowed.

"We're really sorry about that. Did you by any chance SEE what was attacking you?"

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't. But it was growling whatever it was. A low, hissing, panting growl. Really disgusting sounding thing, really." The two boys looked at each other and nodded.

"I suppose they consider me a victim then? Any other grilling, demeaning questions you two would like to bombard me with before I get back to work?"

"No. No, 'Mam, thank you. Sorry for abusing your time." The two walked in silence out the old woman's office door and made their way down the front steps of the library.


	5. Chapter 5

"I need a fucking drink." Dean muttered, the dark lights of the passing cars illuminating the dashboard and his handsome face. "If you don't mind, I'm going to stop by Blair's and pick her up to see if she wants one as well. That go over okay with you Sammy boy?" Sam shrugged.

"Whatever, Dean." Dean got out of the car and approached the front stoop, climbed it and rang the door bell, waiting impatiently with his hands on his hips. Blair answered the door, her little brother clinging longingly to her thin leg.

"Hey, um... I was wondering if you wanted to go to the bar with Sammy and I... erm, tonight?" Blair smiled and nodded.

"I have to drop Jimmy off at the baby sitters on the way though; my mother told me I could go out for a night on the town tonight if I wanted, so I hired a sitter for him."

"Yeah. Let the little guy tag along in the charger and we'll give you two a ride out to the baby sitters place."

"Okay. Let me get his stuff together first. Do you want to come in?"

"Don't mind if I do." He stepped into the foyer and shoved his eager hands in his pockets. Blair shuffled around the household fisting stuff and shoving it into her brother's small, purple duffle bag. She tucked her pitch black, sleek hair behind her ear and stood up, sighing. Her younger brother Jimmy clutched his toy G.I. Joe to his chest.

"Dean, Jimmy. Jimmy, Dean." Dean nodded and offered his hand to little Jimmy, who shyed away behind Blair. She giggled and pulled Jimmy closer.

"Sorry. He's a bit shy."

"That's okay; I feel for the little guy."

"Okay, I think I'm ready." She smiled and offered her hand to Dean. He took it, color flourishing on his pale cheeks and escorted Blair and Jimmy out the door. Blair sat in the car behind Sam's seat and pecked him lightly on the cheek. He turned to Dean and issued a sarcastic smile, raising one arched eyebrow. Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You sarcastic bastard." He muttered. They drove down Highway 56, dropped off Jimmy in front of a warm, welcoming looking duplex, then to Farley's Bar and Grill and parked the Impala next to a bent up Gremlin. Entering the bar, they all caught a whiff of cigarettes, alcohol and a sweet potpourri-like smell that made Sam gag.

"Home Sweet Home." Dean sat down on the nearest barstool and signaled for the bartender, a fat, burly man with side burns and a retarded looking receding hairline. "I'd like a Double Malt Whiskey. And for you, Blair?"

"I'll have a rum and coke please."

"I'll just have a soda." Both Blair and Dean looked at Sam and exploded with chaotic laughter. He looked at them both sternly, and the giggling quickly subsided. The drinks were served and they sat, each sipping their spirits (and watered down fizzy shit) intently, toying a bit of conversation here and there, with the occasional silent points where Dean and attractive Blair got caught staring at one another and sheepishly looked away.

The time came where Blair began to shift anxiously in her seat, her eyes fluttering behind her darkly colored eyelids. She was tired, and nearly feel asleep in Dean's welcoming arms.

"Yeah. I think we should hit the road." Sam sighed, standing up and rubbing at his eyes. "I'm exhausted."

"I'm sure bro. You and your two bit soda." Sam slugged Dean, who drunkly tottered on the barstool. Blair shifted and rest her head politely on Dean's shoulder. He smiled and toyed with her slightly messed hair.

"But I see what you mean. She looks done for." Dean smiled.

"How many did she have?"

"About five. I like my woman to be big drinkers."

"She can come in handy. You didn't even ask for the waitresses phone number."

"Who? Abominable snow-dude over there?" He burst into laughter.

"I'm driving bro. You're to drunk to walk, you dumb bastard." Sam cooed. He shoved his hand in his brothers pocket, extracted the keys and sauntered cooly from the bar. Blair and Dean got into the back seat, their hands neatly intertwined on Blair's petite lap. Sam shoves the key into the ignition, the car coming to life with a chortled roar, sounding oddly, and frighteningly like a large, attacking animal.

The car made it's way sluggishly and cautiously down Route 60; Sam's eyes became heavy, and he thought about pulling over to rest for a few minutes, but the thought soon disintegrated as a dark, looming shape up ahead stalked into the middle of the road. He veered to one side to avoid hitting the large creature, landing the Impala in a deep, narrow ditch. Dean sat up from his slouched sleeping position and shouted, "What the f-" Then fell silent as Sam exited the car and went around back to the trunk. Blair sat propped up in Dean's arms, half asleep, then shot up to stare out the window as Dean sauntered out behind his hassled brother.

"What the Hell are you doing, Sam? Stopping out on the middle of-" Sam hushed his brother and threw him a revolver.

"Shoot at anything that moves."

"Would that include you?" Dean rolled his eyes and cocked the gun, holding it at his right hip and walking over to the left side of the vehicle. He stuck his head in the window nearest Blair and whispered,

"Whatever you see or hear, stay in the car." She nodded silently and slouched a bit so her head was out of view. The two quickly ran across the highway as a large truck passed by, and made their way into the deeper part of the woods. Dean held the revolver to his face and sauntered sideways silently as a dark figure shifted in between the crook of two trees. He swallowed, the dry feeling in the back of his throat causing slight discomfort. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as a branch snapped behind him. He pivoted, only to fall backwards and land on his ass in thorny underbrush.

Sam shushed his brother and offered a hand. As Sam hoisted Dean from his spot, a large, teeth-baring creature pounced from its hiding place and wrestled Sam and Dean to the ground, sending the loaded guns off into the distance. Saliva hung in think, oozing strands from its gaping mouth and it's breath smelled of rotted human flesh and blood. It threw back it's head and howled, before shredding the two brothers' shirts and sinking claws deep into their rib-cages. Tendrils of blood ran in steady streams from both their eyes and mouths as the screamed and writhed in pain. Sam began to black out, but in the distance, heard a faint, reverberating gun shot and the beasts hollering scream.


End file.
